


A Personal Inquiry

by MarvelsMenace



Series: A sleeping bud burst into bloom [2]
Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Breast Fucking, F/M, PWP, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 20:44:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13911876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarvelsMenace/pseuds/MarvelsMenace
Summary: PWP outtake of sorts of my Erik and Christine from It Began With a Rose.  Christine and Erik are interupted by a somewhat concerned Roul durring their afternoon rendezvous.  Roul cant take a hint.





	A Personal Inquiry

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow. Yeah, this happened. Let me know what you think

Christine made a mad dash for her dressing room, at just shy of a jog in hopes to not raise suspicion. They had a small lunch break between rehearsals for the upcoming show, it was rough doing two in one day, but if she was being honest with herself, they all needed it. She slipped the key from its place between her breasts, the soft rope it hung from catching on loose curls as she pulled it over her head. It was easier to unlock the door with the free length than hunching over the knob. The smell of lavender washed over her as she swiftly entered, trying not to trip over the various rugs spread across the floor, and Christine sighed as the smell caused an almost instant sense of relaxation. She bit her lip as she turned to re lock the door, hoping she could have a few minutes of peace away from the other cast members.

The Phantom watched her nearly careen into the dressing room from his hiding place behind the full-length mirror, the corner of his mouth twitching with surprised amusement. Each day he still cannot believe how lucky he is to have earned her love after the trails they had faced, both by his hand, and from outsiders. His heart is hammering as if he hadn't been watching her for the past hour through her rehearsal. Though perhaps that was the reason in itself. The way her body moved was like liquid sin, and he was often hard in the flies just from watching her move across the stage in the homeliest of garb.

He decides to leave his hiding spot as soon as she turns the key, the soft click audible in the silence as he steps past sliding glass to enter the feminine decorated room. His feet fall silently as he takes measured steps across layers of mismatched rugs, and he's waiting when Christine turns around, stilling with mere inches between them if that. She makes a small squeak of surprise that makes his lips curve into a smile. There is no need to school his fetures here, no image to uphold. She knew he would be waiting. He takes one of her small hands in his, and he can feel the warmth of her skin through the soft leather of his gloves as he raises it to place a kiss just beside the resting place of her two rings.

Christine is nearly trembling before him, but before he can inquire on her wellbeing she's grasping his cheek with her free hand and guiding him towards her mouth. So, he isn't the only one easily worked up, he mused to himself. Kissing with the mask is awkward, but not entirely difficult with its deft curve below the nose. He can feel when her hand wanders though, it's path set on finding the edge of bone hard material. He catches that hand as well, pressing her hands to his chest as she begins to pout, kiss swollen bottom lip jutting out dramatically.

"None of that now. We must use caution in case someone decides to interrupt."

"I locked the door."

The words are spoken in between kisses peppering his jaw and throat, and Erik finds himself looking to the ceiling of all things for strength.

"We both know you and I do not possess the only keys to this room."

She concedes with a huff, dragging blunt teeth across the skin of his throat until she is stopped only by his stock and collar.

"We don't have much time. Do you trust me to make ample use of it?"

"Of Course Erik."

His heart soars at the simplicity of her using his name with his trust, and he kisses her swiftly, guiding her as he strokes her own curious tongue with his own. When they break for air he turns her gently before her vanity table, guiding her with a gentle but firm hand between her shoulders blades until she is bending at her waist and her palms are flat on the cushioned bench seat. She turns to speak, but he stops her with two fingers at the edge of her jaw, a gently pressure guiding her until she is staring at their reflections in the looking glass once more. She nips at his fingers before he can move them, a smile toying at her lips. Minx. Erik ignores the mirror, instead drawing gloved hands from her neck downwards, cupping and toying with full breasts through the material of her costume until Christine is panting from the attention, back bowing to mold herself closer. She makes a small noise as his hands travel further down her body, worshipping the narrow waist before squeezing full hips. With the addition of character roles, she has been dancing less, a softness coming to her body above stong muscle that makes his knees weak and his cock stiff. 

His knee finds the floor behind her with only a minor ache from the effort of staying out of sight during opera hours, but he ignores it for this. Erik tosses her skirts up over her hips, one outer layer of cobalt silk above delicate crème colored tulle. She's wearing thigh high stockings and garters, purely for the visual with movement of the high skirt slit across her pale thigh. The plump swell of her ass keeps the material in its place and he shows his appreciation through the cotton of her drawers with a nip of his teeth, the garment less than modest and cut nearly at the seam where her thigh meets her hip to assist with the slit running up the skirt of the dress.

Christine gasps and hums in approval, head hanging between her arms as her husband massages her backside, a small noise of surprise preceding a giggle as he delivers a quick pinch. There's a draft as her drawers are yanked down roughly, trapping her legs lest she want to pop the seams and ruin them. She is stopped from closing her thighs by a hand, and she can feel the smooth leather in the place of calloused palms. Oh. They tickle up her thigh, stroking up and down in a lazy dance before traveling higher still to graze her center. She knows she's wet, she has been since she caught sight of Erik watching them from the top of the theatre as she dances across the wooden stage. It catches him off guard though, and she delights in the way his breath catches when he rubs her sex more directly, a second finger joining the first to spread her wetness. He aches between his legs, hard as steel, but these things cannot be rushed, and he is not a patient man. He ignores touching her directly, fingers sliding up the outer edge of her sex to tease the small patch of cocoa colored curls resting at the top. 

The moan Christine makes when he first rubs that delicate nub at her center is like the sweetest music, better than anything he could ever compose. He repeats the action slowly, dragging his leather clad fingers back and forth over her sex before slipping a finger between her folds . She takes it so good, hips tilting back for more as he lazily thrusts into her before adding another finger. She will be tighter from his angle, and so he helps her relax, easing her feet apart as far as her cotton underthings will allow. Erik stops when she is nearly dripping down his hand. The pink of her is so sweet against the starkness of his black gloves he thinks that he might stop breathing.

His hands are shaking when he rises to undo the fastenings of his trousers, and he can see Christine moving to assist to speed the process along. Patience would do her well.

"Stay put unless I tell you otherwise. Understood."

She catches his eye in the mirror, dark with lust, and he can see he eyes of dark whiskey nearly hooded with want as she nods in understanding. She is the sole reason he even tollerates mirrors, but the novelty of seeing her face as he fucks her from behind greatly outmatches his own discomfort. Christine sways her hips back and forth, at first just adjusting her weight before more devious wants have her urging Erik to hurry up, enticing him with her aching sex. When he steps up behind her, her arms tremble with excitement, the warmth of him as he leans over her back exquisite even through their layers of clothing.

"If you need adjustments. You will tell me, you dont need any strains at this stage of rehersals."

"Yes Erik."

She rocks back against him, his hard cock slipping between her thighs to glide across her sex without penetrating, the crown of him catching as he draws back. He makes a deep noise behind her, gloved hands roaming over her body once more before settling on her hips with a tight grip, thumbs pressing into the firm flesh of her ass. He feels even larger this way as he takes her, the hot stiffness within her unyeilding as he pushes ahead, seeming to radiate heat like a fire stoked within her body. He rocks gentlyat first, breathing shallow as he attempts to stay composed while easing her into the motion. Each time they are intimate it is so much like the first, though smooth and perfect in the place of fumbling awkward. His hands grip her hips tighter and lift her just a bit, her weight slight in his hands as he bottoms out within her, thrusting to the hilt. She sighs beneath him, clenching her muscles to grip him. It is his undoing.

The phantom's hips surge back before driving forward with force, his wife's body rocking above her arms as he pounds into her. She tosses her head back with a cry, back bowing with submission as she pushes back to meet him thrust for thrust, the resulting force rocking her up onto the tips of her toes. They continue at it like demons, starved for carnal lust that they can only gain from each other. A knock at her door has her head jerking in the direction of the sound, a whimper high in her throat. 

Not now!

"Lotte? Christine. I was wondering if I might have a word."

Christine could feel Erik bristle behind her, and quietly groaned as he stilled, cock seated deeply within her. His gaze was hot as he stared at the door from his place above her, and she could see their passion reflected in his eyes mixed with a blazing anger.

"Christine?"

As she watched in the mirror, Erik's face took on a devilish type of grin that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, and she subconsciously clenched around him, causing his eyes to flutter close. That look usually meant good things for her, and very bad things for others should they become involved. He lowered his head to her own, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine as he whispered in her ear.

"Answer the boy. We don't want him getting suspicious, do we?"

He drew back up to his full height, his hands finding a more stable her hips and nearly lifting her feet from their unstable connection to the ground as he withdrew, before roughly thrusting back into his place within her. She made a small noise, and forced her voice to work, her fingers digging into the plush material of the vanity bench.

"S-Sorry Roul! I was just ooooh."

Erik rocked roughly within her, watching her face through the mirror as he gave a slight twist to the thrust of his hips.

"Christine? Are you alright?"

"Yes! Oh Yes! I-I apologize, I'm stretching after that last run through. My mind is on my positions, my muscles are a bit tight."

Erik nearly choked on a laugh behind her, his thrusts stuttering for a moment as he composed himself. Her toes were just barely holding her to the floor, the strong grip of leather gloved hands on her hips easily lifting her to the perfect angle for them both. Her teeth sink into her lower lip, make up painted lids fluttering closed, covering her wide blown pupils.

"I see, well I wanted to ask you something. If you had a moment."

She lost herself in the delicious movements of the Phantom, she knew he and Erik were the same, but with that look and his rough demeanor she had no problem telling who was currently fucking her before her looking glass. Why oh why was Roul here? Christine sent a silent prayer to the heavens. She was good, they were married!

A loud crack and a flair of decadent pain and pleasure flare on the curve of her ass, and there is no excuse possible for the erotic noise that leaves her. She hadn't even realized that it was one forearm that now supported the lower portion of her frame. The voice behind her was all but a growl in her ear as Erik wedged himself deep within her, only to still.

"Answer him. Or you will be punished."

"Christine? Are you sure you're alright? That was an odd noise."

Christine wanted to sob, she had been drawing oh so close to release. One look in the mirror showed that her lover was enjoying this even more than her. He rocked behind her, moving minutely so that it could barely even count as a tease with the slow drag of his cock.

"Of cour-ah-se Roul! Simply knocked something ooooff my vanity! What, what can I help you with? You may speak freely."

Erik resumed his attentions on her wanton body, slowly this time with her weight still balanced on his fore arm, as he tenderly caressed the blooming mark on the round softness of her ass.

"I was wondering perhaps, if it would be too forward of me to ask for you to join me for lunch?"

Christine swears as she pushes back against Erik, willing his cock deeper. She receives another strike to her rear, and she arches while gritting her teeth as she forces out an answer.

"Roul. We. HaaaaaVe Discussed this! I-I am maARIED."

A hand finds its way into her hair, sliding up the back of her skull before tugging with just the right amount of pressure. The singer sighs and lets her head fall back, her submission rewarded with kisses across the creamy skin of her throat. Erik is pressed tight against her, rolling his hips against her without the power of his previous thrusts.

"Of Course. But Christine, you don't have to lie to me! Are we not friends?"

"Vicomte. I'm afraid I have more on my mind than the complexity of our relationship."

She breaks off with a growl, testing her balance before moving one hand over her shoulder to grasp the back of Erik's head, pushing his mouth harder against her skin. There would be marks, but the costume department had been debating a scarf for the outfit, perhaps she could get away with testing it out. The rough treatment spurs him into snapping his hips against hers, the force of it rocking her weight up onto the very tips of her toes.

"Forgive me Christine. I find myself Longing for more of your company, thinking back to those days on cold beaches from our childhood."

"Roul. We will ss-peak of this latER. I have other maaaatters to attend to at this moment!"

Erik removed himself swiftly, dragging Christine back with him over stumbling feet until he felt the chaise bump the back of his legs. He sat down heavily, moving her massive skirts with the help of the high thigh slit to rest at the side before he helped her slide back into place over his cock, her warmth and wetness hitting him like a punch to the gut. Christine pressed her back to his chest, her head tilted back to rest on a black clad shoulder as she arched, searching for the right angle to take him deeper. One hand came up to cup the back of his neck as he rutted against her like she was in heat.

He spread her legs further, hooking them on the outside of his knees before spreading his own thighs, feeling himself slip deeper as she opened for him. Her back arched like a bow, a high noise slipping free as he massaged her waist through the sensation of a new angle, striving for patience as she adjusted. Erik worked swiftly on the bodice of her costume, nimbly slipping buttons from their holes until he had enough space to free her breasts from the restraint of her corset beneath. Her breasts were full and heavy as he took them in his hands, massaging the pebbled centers with his thumbs.

"Should I fetch someone? Perhaps Madame Giry?"

"No! No, I am quite- Quite, alright! Please, I- I will try to find time to speak -ah Later."

"As you wish, Miss Daae."

She's too far gone to fuck herself upon him like she so desperately wants to, so she resigns herself to rocking her hips in tight circles as he rolls her nipples between thumb and forefinger, leather warm from the heat of her body. Christine holds her breath as one is pinched, a whimper leaving her when it is released and blood flows back into the sensitive skin. Her nails are digging into the back of his neck, no doubt leaving tiny crescents in their wake as she strives to hold on.

He knows he cannot find his end within her. She has another rehearsal before they are done for the day and he is not selfish enough to leave her to be uncomfortable, just so he may find his own pleasure within her body. One of his hands leaves her breast to venture to where they are joined, leather clad fingers slipping easily on soft flesh before he finds that spot at her apex where he knows she must be aching. It takes only a few tight circles with his index and middle finger before she is clamping around him, all but sobbing as she arches off of his chest with waves of ecstasy. There is sweat at his brow, but he maintains control within her, leaving soft kisses across her fine boned shoulders as he rocks into her.

When it is too much for her, he easily lifts her from his shaft, setting her feet down on the plush rugs. She's a bit of a mess, her drawers damp with sweat and her own wetness hanging from one ankle, her skirts wrinkled, and her hair untamed. Before he can help to fix her bodice though, she is sinking to her knees before him. His cock is still damp with the wetness of her body, and it is only that that makes the glide so smooth as she shifts forward to take his shaft between her breasts, her hands pushing them together to form a not unpleasant pressure. Erik lets his head fall back with a groan, the feeling and sight of her before him on her knees nearly undoing him. The press of her soft, warm flesh is not unlike finding pleasure within her body, though the lack of intimacy may help in truly preferring the latter.

Christine smirks, glancing up to watch her lover, her husband as she takes her lower lip between her teeth. His neck is chorded as he pants with his head resting on the back of the chaise and she squeezes her breasts together a bit more, delighted when his head snaps up to look at her with the promise of revenge. She toys with the idea of playing with her nipples, just for him, but her body is nearly worn out from their activities.

"You are running out of time, unless you wish to make a mess of your new dress."

That is a trick she reminds self to enjoy another day she thinks, releasing him to stroke one slim finger from the base of his cock to the tip. He begins to speak, but Christine has him choking on his words as he enters her mouth, the muscle of her tongue moving gently against the underside of him, stroking that hidden vein that carries his heartbeat. She cannot fit all of him in her mouth, so she uses her hands at his base, one hand stroking the rest of his shaft while her other hand toys with the coarse hair on his skin, lacquered nails scraping lightly against his lower belly. This draws a reaction from Erik, his back and hips arching as if to get closer. He guides her gently with a hand at the back of her head, slowing her rhythm as her hand travels lower to cup his balls, thumb gently massaging the soft skin.

Erik tries to leave her grasp, but she only sucks harder until he is coming with a growl, teeth bared as his eyes meet hers. Christ, if he could grow hard again he would fuck her on every surface of this room. Her cheeks are hollowed as she finishes him, tongue cleaning any remaining fluid until he must remove her from his sensitive flesh. Once she is back to her place in his lap he removes his gloves to gently work his fingers through her mass of hair, clearing tangles while trying to restore some semblance of order. By the time he is finished her bodice is back to rights, and she is snuggling into his neck, soft lips peppering the skin with kisses.

"You, are going to be the death of me."

Her response is a laugh that really should unnerve him, but honestly, he has had too much to worry about in this life to be concerned about her joy.

There's a knock at the door, and the couple jolts, though no noise of turning lock follows. Meg's voice is clear though the door.

"Five minutes Christine! You have a visitor too, the vicomte asked that I check on your wellbeing."

The laugh the ballerina parts with causes Christine to groan, and Erik pats her on the back. She glances up at him, lips pressed tight.

"We have got to do something about him."

"One thing at a time dearest. You have one more run through and you can retire. I'll cook dinner and perhaps a bath for your sore muscles."

His thumbs press into the small of her back, even though the corset and bodice she can feel him rubbing knotted muscles into submission. Christine huffs out a breath, standing.

"Alright, you better leave before we get carried away again."

Erik laughs as he rises to fix his clothing, making his way back to the mirror.

"We wouldn't have a problem if you didn't instigate things."

He is left with the vision of his lovely wife sticking her tongue out at the mirror as she opens the door, and Erik thinks that she has never been dearer to his heart.


End file.
